


Mirage

by jenni3penny



Series: Cherry Wood and Whiskey [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-06-30 09:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19850716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenni3penny/pseuds/jenni3penny
Summary: A Mexican prequel to Coolbyrne's wonderful 'Three Months Later'. "So he married her by the water to make sure the ocean knew he was watching, to make sure she didn't slip away from him, a sad sailor's mirage."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coolbyrne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/gifts).



> While both Coolbyrne and I are aware how unlikely a fifth Gibbsian wedding would be, we couldn't help but joke and speculate about how it might come about... Either of us could possibly be prodded (or bribed) into adding more...

_“I think we should get married.”_

_"How many tequilas have I had?"_

***

"You sure about today?"

He'd been awake for hours before he had said anything. Most of them had been spent staring at the mint green ceiling and idly stroking her hair back from her face with his left hand, wishing she would stop trimming it shoulder-short. He happened to love it when she leaned over him, her hair brushing his cheeks, curtaining him into the smell of her.

Her snort of laughter was quick and warm as she leaned fully onto her back beside him and stretched. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. _Five_ wives is… I mean, it's the opening to a Shakespearean play."

" _Hilarious_ ," he said drolly, feeling her stretch out and hearing the little mewled noise she made as her spine crackled. He got an accidental elbow in the ribs and grunted at her, playfully shoving back. "You want this?"

"Which _this_?" Jack asked, giddy and her whole body suddenly more energetic as she rolled once again and flopped onto his chest with a grin.

"Marriage," he explained softly, catching her hair out of her face again, grateful that the cast on his hand cut just flush to the knuckles. The sun had done some sensually sweet things to her skin and he enjoyed how dark her tan seemed to make the brown of her eyes. "Me."

As she smirked her eyes sparked closer to copper, bemused and bright, "Yes, please. I definitely want more _you_."

"Jacqueline."

" _What_ , Jethro?" Her eyes flared wider, taunting as she smiled, face full of mirth and voice all sass. "Oh, _that's_ gonna take some getting used to - _Jethro_."

"Stop saying it that way."

"What way am I saying it?" Like she didn't damn well _know_ , goddamn tease. And not just once but twice in the same breath.

"Like I'm an appetizer," he muttered, feigning annoyance when it actually sounded sorta comforting to him. She had really only used his first name so sparingly before, and not really ever with such depth of affection.

"No, sweetie, you've always been the main course." Something about the way she murmured the endearment, the entire sentence, it was both distracted and sincere but also sexy as hell. "And dessert too."

She was becoming entirely distracted by the erection she'd managed to start, though, her attention utterly lost from the conversation as she brushed the back of her hand against him and sighed.

Gibbs tried to frown and found himself just biting back a grin as she wriggled down lower on top of him, ' _accidentally_ ' dragging at the waistband of his boxers. "I'm being serious, Jack."

"I'm being serious too, Grump-Ass," she said through a smile, her breath hitching as his hands caught her hips and dug her down. " _Yes_ , I'm sure about today. How about you?"

She grinned brightly when he just rolled his eyes and grabbed at her hand with his left, putting it down under the fabric and curling her fingers loosely around his length.

Her smile flared even brighter when he just exhaled and dropped his head back against the pillows, leaving her in control and just enjoying the touch. "Well, I guess that answers _that_."

***

She hadn't loosened his fingers from hers since they'd stepped through the spacious Mission doorway, the two wide wooden doors hanging open to let morning sun brighten the eggshell walls. He'd stalled slightly to study the aged and intricately carved doors and felt her pull still, waiting with their fingers loosely locked together, even at a distance and with the weight of the cast pulling downward. If anything her grip tightened slightly after a moment, tucking them back together as she came back toward him and edged up into his side.

"I don't think there's anyone - "

"He said that he would be here. Relax," he murmured, rubbing the words into her hair as a half made kiss.

"We'll have to file for a license at home, change our medical references and file with HR. Oh, _God_ , Leon… He'll absolutely _kill_ me when he finds out," she fussed, worrying through words instead of looking up at him, finally loosening her grip on his hand so that she could snug up close and wrap around his middle. He didn't argue the movement, not when she seemed to need the bolstering. Jack wasn't generally clingy - it had much more to do with the day itself, he had no doubt about that. "Think this will count? I mean legally? Or will we - "

"It'll count for me," he assured her, voice assertive, his cheek brushing along the top of her head. "We'll figure it out."

His assurances just barely dented her concern, though he could see as much when she looked up. He watched her fret her teeth against her bottom lip before she groaned and turned her face into his shoulder. Gibbs chuckled at the movement, tipping his head into hers as she lifted her chin onto his shoulder, facing behind him. "Am I being silly? I'm more nervous than I expected."

"I trust Leyla's judgment. It's why I called her," he answered, voice purposely lowered. "This'll do fine."

***

" _Not_ saying that," she tapped the pen she had pilfered from his pocket on one specific section before angling the paper toward him. "Especially if that word means what I think it means."

Gibbs went grinning as he squinted over what she was pointing at, bemused as he nodded that she was likely right. "That part means the husband is the head of the - "

"Yeah, no. We're not doing that bit. Or this," she added as she tapped another section, turning her head slightly as he brushed her hair from her eyes, his body angled toward hers in the pew. "What's this part? Siempre y para siempre?"

"Para siempre? For ever." He murmured without having to look at the paper, his hand seeming to get purposely caught into her hair instead. She loved hearing him speak Spanish and both his understanding of it and his accent were fifty percent better than hers. She didn't care what language the wedding was in as long as she was standing next to him. "Like… always and forever."

" _Pretty_. That can stay," Jack murmured, letting him pull against the back of her neck as he leaned forward.

She let him kiss her, let him pull her closer by the neck and brace his broken hand up the back of her head. She felt him tug a little to tease her head back as he pressed his tongue along hers, a clipped growl rising up his throat as she went soft and pliant under him. He stayed gentle, though, sucking lightly against her tongue before nibbling along her bottom lip and listening to her sigh.

Jesus, she'd happily go to hell if he wanted to go further, his other hand pressing her stomach to still her as she'd started shifting closer.

"You're in church," he whispered along the corner of her mouth. "Keep that moan to yourself next time."

"Then keep your hands to yourself, Heathen."

Unadulterated happiness flicked over his face just ahead of the grin that crashed over his lips. "Y'know, the Spanish word for 'wives' is the same as the word for 'handcuffs'."

Cute. Jesus _fuck_ , he was cuter than should have been fair. Even (and especially?) when he was being such an impish little shit.

"Actually, I did know that, smartass, but thank you for the reminder," she snapped, giving him a shove to the chest and making space between them even as she gave him a wink. "You okay with the Catholic stuff?"

His shrug was simply made, no fuss, same as his laughter. She appreciated that about him more than she had realized, that nonchalance and acceptance. "You're Catholic. It's fine."

Jack just smiled, blinking up into how close he still was just to enjoy the brightness of his eyes. "I think we're good."

"Yeah, I think we are," he agreed heavily, the whisper so warmly sincere as he brushed his lips on her cheek. He had purposely added a weight to his words, laying each syllable out so specifically between them.

"Don't you dare make me cry yet."

"Yet?" he chuckled, head tipped as he watched her bite onto her bottom lip.

"Why don't you go find your friend and ask when he wants us back here tonight."

"He said six," he murmured, kissing lightly into her cheek before she could manage to duck away. "I asked earlier."

Jack nodded once, eyes glossed slightly with emotion as she blinked and handed him the paper with their edited vows. "Good... I need a drink, Cowboy. Take me out."

"It's eleven in the morning, Jack."

***

"Mmmmm," she moaned into the kiss he caught as he stepped entirely out of the shower, having grabbed at her before she could step out of reach. He could taste the mint scent of her toothpaste, the bite of it just barely managing to tone down the leftover tequila from lunch. "Don't shave."

Gibbs just gave her a half cocked brow and a look of disbelief, lifting his jaw as she sighed and scrubbed both palms on his cheeks. "Seriously?"

"You've got a nice scruff going on right now. It's handsome," she told him, tugging on his chin to emphasize before she kissed him, quick and light. "Little beard burn doesn't bother me. Especially if it's in the right spot."

She gave him a smirk, watching his eyes shade darker as he pulled her in closer by the hips. " _Jesus_ , Jack. Really?"

"But you should always do the things you're good at, Jethro," she whispered through a smile, silking her voice just enough to make him flex his jaw and pull her in closer as she continued. Her hands lowered to tug the plastic from his cast. "Ya know, pretty soon you won't be able to back outta this. You still have time."

The tightness in his jaw went lax as he smiled, left hand lifting so that he could brush against damp blonde waves. "Leave your hair down tonight?"

She just smiled as he ignored her proverbial 'Get Out of Jail Free' card, shoulders going loose and relaxed as she wiped shower water from his temple. "Sure."

***

She hadn't been sure what to expect but she was still slightly surprised by the fact that he had somehow slipped out and away long enough in two days to find them plain wedding bands, simple gold and sized perfectly.

It hadn't felt real, hadn't felt like something they were really doing, _together_ , until he had put them both in her palm. "You should probably hold onto them."

"Where - "

"I'll get your engagement ring at home," he interrupted as he flopped onto the rented bed and then dropped backwards, blowing his breath from his lungs slowly. "Already have one in mind."

"Little after the fact," Jack muttered, lifting the rings and studying their simplistic beauty. Leave it to him to - "Wait… _what_?"

"What?" He asked upward and to the ceiling, still not sitting up as she turned toward him.

"You _already_ have one in mind?" She was awestruck, her tongue feeling heavier than it should have in her mouth as her head came up. Her eyes found his glance as he lifted up on his elbows, his eyes all glossy and sky-to-water blue as he grinned at her.

God, she didn't even know how to explain how well he loved her without even trying. But then, she didn't have the words to try and explain her own emotions when it came to him. Not since he'd slyly offered to marry her out of supposed concern for her welfare. _Tricky little shit._ "What in the hell have you done with Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"

"Sittin' right here, sweetheart."

***

He had assumed that Leyla had suggested he call Manuel because he could easily speak to them in English, and he had a few times. There had been moments when the younger man had self translated just to reiterate a point, just to be sure everyone understood.

But he realized it was easily more than that, right about when the younger man teased him about standing so far away from his woman and how he might lose her to the ocean if he looked away too long. He knew right then why Leyla had suggested the priest with the kind smile and brighter than brown eyes.

" _I embarrass him_ ," she had teased with a wink before jerking playfully against his wrists and drawing them closer.

" _Can we just get this over with already_?" he'd taunted back, uneven in the sand and squinting at her as she'd made a face.

" _En Ingles_?"

" _Not necessary_." Jack had answered before he could, shaking her head with a smile that had him centered, sturdy. " _Entendemos_."

She was absolutely sure of herself - or at least she seemed it. That was what he noticed the most as he watched her, studied her face throughout the beginning. He only half listened to the other man's voice, mentally thanking Leyla again.

She was so calm, bare feet dug down into sand and every nervous fidget gone from her face and hands. She had made a joke earlier about the blessing of nobody knowing them because wearing white would be more believable that way and he hadn't cared at all what color she wore.

Except he decided, while looking at her, his attention lost to her prettiness, that she should always wear white soft sundresses when so thoroughly tanned and warmed and her eyes so tinted caramel. She should always be so relaxed and beautiful, browned bare shoulders back and breathing even, blonde hair just tripping her shoulders. She turned her jaw slightly as she realized how closely he was studying her, how intimately, a smile curving the corners of her mouth up. There were sun-made freckles all over her and that smile…

That smile had derailed him, catching him up and tangled and Manuel gave a slight shift closer to him, head tipped. "Gibbs?"

"She distracts me," he explained in place of an apology.

"As she should, I think," the younger man offered through a chuckle. "Repite?"

He was only half aware of what he was repeating because he was wholly aware of her and how tightly she had curled their hands up together. She had managed to incrementally pry them closer and so that her knuckles were brushing the pale white of the linen shirt he was wearing, even while their hands stayed clasped up together. Somewhere she had both rings palmed between them, twisted between four hands (and a cast) and he didn't care to let go long enough to find them.

He told her " _I do_ " in English because she deserved all the promissory weight that those words held and he watched her bite against crying as she held his eyes. He listened to her half stumble through repeating the vows in Spanish, her accent cushioned in the velvet heat of her voice. Halfway through her repetition he started untangling their fingers far enough to lift both rings up on the flat of his uninjured palm and let her take them.

She said her part with the same hint of loyalty he had used, eliciting a hard swallow from him as she made sure both rings found new homes and he wasn't entirely sure what he would have done the last couple years without her.

He hadn't known that she should have already been in his life until she'd found her way to it.

So he married her by the water to make sure the ocean knew he was watching, to make sure she didn't slip away from him, a sad sailor's mirage. He married her without telling anyone but Mike's daughter, because the whole world could see it without being told (if they'd just _really_ look).

And he married her in Mexico because they always seemed to make their best decisions when vacationing away from their makeshift family and this was probably one of the greatest choices he'd made in years.

That was proven just by the way she wild-child laughed and splashed him straight in the face only seven minutes into the marriage. _That_ was Jack - _that_ was the wife he deserved, really.


	2. Epilogue

"What the hell are you doing?"

He just paused the knife, stuttering the sawing motion still as he gave her a sardonic half glare. His eyes thinned as though she was asking a rhetorical question. Jack frowned when he bit the edge of the knife into plaster once again, his forearm flexing and bunching attractively below the rolled white linen of his shirt sleeve.

"You're gonna hurt yourself," Jack murmured softly, catching his good wrist still and stepping into the movement to make him pause before he could hurt her. She exhaled sharply, the fingers of one hand pressing under where he'd already gotten a good start at prying open the palm of the cast. She took the knife in the other hand, using a safer angle and a steadier motion to continue the cut while pulling the two sides apart. " _Stubborn jackass_. What - "

"What I'm gonna do is touch my wife without _this_ ," he nodded downward as he wiggled his half freed fingers, "in the way."

She felt her stomach flutter and twitch in response, not even chastising herself for how silly she felt for the reaction. Her whole body went flush hot in response, a spike from her gut to the space between her thighs and the moaned sigh she made was entirely unintentional. " _That_ was sexy."

"Callin' you my wife?" he asked smartly, a grin tugging up one corner of his mouth while he watched her, the blue of his eyes so sharply intense that it knifed right at her gut.

She felt like a goddamn teenager even as he said it, avoiding his glance as much as she could, focusing on his cast again. "Well, _nobody's_ ever called me that."

"Good."


End file.
